The next day, Ichiro stood in the doorway of his old bedroom. It had only been three days since he came home – and now he was leaving again.
His bed was still unmade from the night before, and a few half-folded T-shirts were draped over a chair.
Ichiro wandered into his room, taking in the smell of nostalgia and stopped in front of a faded photo: An eleven-year-old Ichiro was wearing a Gamba Osaka shirt, way too big for him. Standing next to his dad, grinning like a kid that had never tasted pressure.
Ichiro stood there, admiring the picture, before turning away with a sigh. He could never go back to a time like that – a time without pressure. But he didn't want to either.
"System" he said quietly, careful so no one would hear it.
**
FOOTBALL SYSTEM
NAME: Ichiro Lo Presti
AGE: 16
-TEAM-: Gamba Osaka
-STATUS-: Youth player
VALUE: None
-OVERALL-: 55
-POTENTIAL-: 76
HEIGHT: 178cm/5´10
POSITION: Left Wing, Striker
-ATTRIBUTE POINTS-: 5
-SYSTEM POINTS-: 0
SYSTEM ASSESSMENT: An average academy player with potential to become an average Championship (England second division) player.
**
Ichiro hadn't forgotten the five Attribute Points he already had. He just hadn't gotten around to using them, with everything going on.
But now – now was the time. He would be moving to the dorms tomorrow and that meant the trainings started too.
Ichiro could not afford to fuck this up. So it was time, he had already decided where to use it.
He tapped the screen, that expanded into its now – familiar grid:
ATTRIBUTES
-PACE: 72
*Acceleration: 75
*Sprint speed: 70
-SHOOTING: 58
*Finishing: 60
*Shot power: 57
-PASSING: 53
*Short passing: 60
*Long passing: 48
-DRIBBLING: 56
*Ball control: 65
*Dribbling:50
-DEFENDING: 33
*Tackling: 30
*Marking: 22
*Heading: 56
-MENTAL: 54
*Vision: 63
*Composure: 49
*Positioning: 54
-PHYSICAL: 50
*Agility: 56
*Jumping: 47
*Strength: 30
*Stamina: 67
-SET PIECES: 56
*Corners: 50
*Free kicks: 59
*Penalties: 55
-WEAK FOOT: 2 stars
-ACQUIRED SKILLS:
*None
Ichiro squinted at the list, rubbing his chin. "Okay… Strength is way too low. That has to change."
-Strength Increased: 30>32
"Still kind of- actually very shit. But it'll have to do for now."
He hovered over Long Passing. "If I'm going to be playing as winger, I need to be able to get the ball into the box."
-Long Passing: 48>50
And finally… he hesitated. Ichiro's thumb hovered between Dribbling and Composure.
"Let's go with composure," he muttered. "Can't afford to choke."
-Composure: 49>50
DING!
*Attribute Points successfully allocated.
-Physicality Increased: 50>51
-Passing Increased: 53>55
-Mental: 53=
(OVERALL INCREASED: 55>56)
**
Ichiro smiled faintly as the screen blinked out. It wasn't much, but it was progress.
"Ichiroo, dinner!" his mother called in Japanese. The sound of quiet clattering of plates being placed on the table, drifting through the walls.
"Okay!" Ichiro answered back.
The kitchen table was already full when Ichiro walked in – miso soup steaming gently in bowls, fish glazed and crisp on the edges, pickled radish, cucumber salad, and a side of tamagoyaki. Everything was arranged with her usual care. She always cooked like he was about to run a marathon.
His dad, Gianni, sat at the end of the table in a slightly too-tight Gamba Osaka T-shirt, sleeves hugging his biceps. His mom, was pouring tea with one hand and already fussing over the portions with the other.
Sakura, full of cheek, sat with her elbows on the table, her long black hair tied in a loose ponytail.
"About time," Sakura muttered, not looking up. "We almost started without you."
"You're just mad I get the biggest portion," Ichiro said, sitting down and flashing her a smug look.
"I'm mad that you get to leave again and I'm stuck with the parental unit," she shot back.
Gianni chuckled. "I like this one."
Miyuki gave her daughter a flat look. "Eat."
They ate quietly for a few minutes, the only sounds being the soft clink of chopsticks and the distant hum of Osaka outside the window.
Then, quietly, Miyuki spoke.
"So. You're moving in tomorrow morning."
Ichiro nodded. "Check-in's at nine."
She gave a soft hum and added, "Do you have enough towels? What about detergent?"
"I'm not moving to the wilderness, Mom."
Sakura grinned. "He's gonna last two days. Three, max."
"I'll be fine," Ichiro said, picking up his bowl. "It's just a dorm."
"You've never lived in one before," Miyuki said. "And the food won't be like this."
"That's true," Gianni added, sipping his tea. "Their cafeteria does things to curry rice that should be illegal."
Ichiro smiled. "I'll survive."
Miyuki studied her son quietly. "Just don't push yourself too hard. Promise me?"
He paused. Then nodded. "I'll work hard. But I won't burn out. I promise."
Sakura leaned forward, both elbows on the table.
"If you get famous," she said, "I want a signed ball. And a shirt. And tickets. Actually, I want one of those little mascot guys. And I want to walk out on the field with you."
Ichiro raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of demands."
She pointed her chopsticks at him. "If I have to grow up as 'Ichiro's little sister' then I want some benefits."
He laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair.
"Deal."
She shrieked. "You're ruining my ponytail!"
…
Later that night, after having cleared the table and wiped it clean – Ichiro lingered on the balcony, watching the city lights flicker.
Gianni stepped out beside him, sipping from a ceramic cup."You ready?"
Ichiro nodded. "Yeah."
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," his dad said, voice low. "But you will anyway. That's just who you are."
Ichiro stared out at the skyline. "I want this."
"I know."